


Silver Sunlit Schisms

by alydjarins



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, I hope this makes him the same for all of you too!, Light Angst, idk dude javi is just my comfort spirit guardian now basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alydjarins/pseuds/alydjarins
Summary: You really, *really* need a break from work.Javi comes home at just the right time.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Silver Sunlit Schisms

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for my amazing, beautiful friend who deserves love around the world and back again! 
> 
> Javi and I have got you, you strong thing, you. <3

_Tap_.

The spacebar thumps against sleek, silver metal. 

_Tap_. 

Again. 

_Tap_. 

Fuck. 

_Fuck_. 

You can’t do this. Thunderclouds rumble in their weary 3PM lull outside of your bedroom window, and you very, very much cannot do this. The final semester of college looms and threatens like a loyal enemy. _Tap_. With each crack of lightning, your shoulders bunch a little tighter, spinning a star-spent tune of just how much fucking _work_ you have. 

Fuck.

Tabs litter ceaselessly on your browser. Through onyx-rimmed glasses, you feel your eyes criss-cross through each — x’s and text begin to blur, glaring themselves into a dirty meld of nothing. Somewhere in the distance, sirens blare. You can feel tears begin to prick along your lashes. Was the thunder this close before? 

In your mind’s peripheral, keys jangle, a door squeaks, and the thunder is suddenly louder than ever. 

“ _Mija_?” 

Javi’s voice pierces through the static buzz of the room. Curtains you left open are flapping, now, and something in your chest fidgets with their unrest. Your shutters slam. The sirens start to wail. 

“ _Mija_ , I’m home, are you—”

 _Hiss_. The lightbulbs flick, and in one fell swoop, the fractured thunder steals them away. Your laptop sputters. “No,” you plead, letting it fall to a void of wind and fatigue. “No, no, _no_ , you can’t…” 

Before you can finish, a starburst buzzes across the screen, and you are only left with black. 

Fuck. 

The doorknob turns. 

“ _Cari_ _ña_ , what—?” 

You tilt a glance towards Javi, imagining what he sees: grimy hair, glasses careening down the bridge of your nose, tear streaks staining the downs of your cheeks. 

He is there in the snap of lightning. 

Finally, _finally_ safe in the sanctuary of him — he who has scooped you from your chair to let wobbly knees fall into his own — you let yourself heave. Sunstroked arms wrap around your shoulders. Cyan cotton wafts up mint and musk, and you bury your nose into it, sobbing the past few months into its stitches. ‘ _Sh, sh, shhh, mija... sh…_ ’s ping along the rounds of your ears.  
  
“Are you hurt?”  
  
You shake your head rapidly into Javi’s chest, killing the instinctual probe that bubbles from his lips. As he strokes rough, ragged fingernails through snarls of knotted hair, the thunder rests.  
  
“In. Out. In…” he gasps deep breaths into his belly — you feel it thicken against your own — “and out.” The cloth exhausts back into him, and you plunge further into the refuge of afterwork musk. “There we go, _mi vida._ There we go.” 

Chaotic hums in your chest settle to still, quiet whispers. 

“There’s my love,” he whispers. 

There’s only Javi. 

Only him.

“Look at me.” Coarse hands grip your shoulders, bare with blankets falling to your side, and you surrender yourself to the near-summer heat: the warmth of him, the rain-mist breeze that tickles your cheeks. Javi lets a fingernail trace lines the breezes kiss. It tinges something deep in your stomach, how _soft_ he is sometimes. When he lifts your chin to make sure — to insure your gaze is set to his brown, the warm russet that washes oceans of your mental mud — you feel it prick at a foreign nerve in your gut.  
  
“You see me, _amor_?”  
  
“Y-yes, Javi. I—” you sob one last heave into the galaxy of him— “I see you.”  
  
“Good.” His voice dips to baritones of nighttime jungle hums. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. See your laptop?” 

Wincing, you side-eye the voided screen, an entire twenty pages swallowed up to nothing. “I see that too. _Sadly._ ” You cull up a smirk and nudge his shoulder. 

“Alright. Fuck it. Fuck the laptop.”  
  
“Sounds painful, Javi.” A sniffle interrupts your tease, finally trickling back as your gaze stays fixed on brown. 

“What’s going to be _more_ painful,” Javi chuckles and raises a brow at you, “is your head, _mija_ , if you don’t give yourself a fucking break.”

“I can’t, though. I literally… cannot.” Your skin tenses beneath his sheltering grip. “Sikowitz wants the paper tomorrow, earlier than everyone else because of my Honors status, and Bolder is telling me I have to lead the research group because _no one else_ in this class understands anything about psychology, despite being fuckin’ psych majors, and I just— I’m so close to us working together, so close, and if I don’t get this then I _can’t_ , Javi. The DEA won’t take me and you’ll be gone more hours, and I’ll miss you more and you’ll miss me and everything I worked and _we_ worked for will—”

His lips are on yours like thunder. 

They still for a moment. Cracks and fine age meld with your fissures, built from stress and abandoned chapstick, and Javi marries your lifetime weights into sutures of his touch

One thumb specks freckles along your jawline. Another strays circles along your back. 

Back and forth. 

His lips open to curve around you, moving to follow kisses that pepper starlit chills beneath your chin. 

Back... 

Heat bubbles at that foreign nerve as he slips lower. Lower, deeper, farther. _Fuck._

…and forth. 

Javi is everywhere, and nowhere, and all you know is him. 

Again.

 _Again._

Beyond the window, sunlight punctures the clouds, bathing you in a slumber of Javi’s own design.

You want to ache when he pulls away — want to mourn the loss of his buzzing glow — but you can’t. He is everywhere. Everything that is Javi seeps into your pores. Toasted, musky mint coils around your newly-hushed head. Quills of a mustache graze, haze, laze along your cheeks. Twitches of muscle croon to his breath, gasping for reprieve after the universe of _you_. 

Your tiptoes push against the hardwood floor. They reel against his spiraling warmth, settling like dust into your veins now. 

There’s only Javi. 

Only him.

“Hm.” The assessment is deep. Low. Javi surveys his work through still-lidded eyes, moving lips to brush a whisper against the arch of your ear. “Dizzy enough to say yes to a break with me tomorrow, _cosita hermosa_?” 

The nickname seethes sunlit, shimmered flares along every buzzing nerve you can name, and each one you cannot. 

“Mm…” you rest your nose against his and scrunch it in false, theatrical thought. Javi breathes something amused, endeared, in love against you. “I’ll consider it. Might need some more convincing, though.” 

He beams. He did it. You’re here.

Everything’s going to be okay.

Right now, it can’t be anything but. 

“Convenient that we have a bed right here, then, yeah, _mi reina_? I mean. Unless the DEA is gonna pull my love away from me again. Damn _work_ , huh?”

...Yeah. 

Fuck the laptop.

**Author's Note:**

> Love you, Pascal Rascals. ♡ :)


End file.
